Miss Begotten is one of my pet names for myself, for Southern Gothic reasons best kept to myself. Miss Begotten tries to speak plainly, but sometimes she tends to babble -- parenthetically, of course. It's never my intention to offend (and usually that's true - except on those [maybe not so] rare occasions when I mean it very friggin' much) but it sometimes happens, so if you're unusually easily offended...

Friday, June 08, 2007

Hot Town

Hot town, summer in the cityBack of my neck getting dirty and grittyBeen down, isn't it a pityDoesn't seem to be a shadow in the cityAll around, people looking half deadWalking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head.

("Summer in the City," The Lovin' Spoonful)

The weatherman -- not the one on crack -- said it was going to get hot again. He was right. The temperature climbed back up into the 90s yesterday and continues to climb today. I came in yesterday afternoon tired, dragging, and hot as hell. The first thing I did was turn on all the ACs. It didn't take long to get this place freezing cold, whereupon I grabbed a blanket and a nap. I don't care what it does outside as long as I never have to work construction, roofing, or ditch-digging. And it's a good thing because today is going to be even hotter, like around 95. And more humid. It's an absolute truism that dry heat is easier to survive than wet, suffocating heat.

Oh, and I somehow made it home yesterday with a slash across the tip of my right index finger. I have no idea how that happened. Once I cooled down and had my little nap, I slapped a Band-Aid on the cut-up finger and put on a new toilet seat. Yes, I am the handyman around here. I can fix the stopped-up plumbing, get a cranky ceiling fan going again, and change the handles on a faucet. I still can't figure out which switch controls which electrical circuit without managing to black out the whole house, though. Oh, and you don't even want to know how many floors I've laid. This kind of tarnishes the girly-girl image, I suppose, but somebody's gotta do it.

Because I'm not a spoiled, too-rich, skanky party girl, if I were to get busted for DUI and if I were to subsequently violate the terms of my probation and get my pampered ass thrown in jail, I'd bet money that I'd have to serve more than THREE DAYS. Exactly what lesson did said over-indulged princess learn from this experience? Like we don't all know. What a fucking crock. Unfortunately, you see this kind of thing in all walks of life; i.e., there are those to whom crap simply will not stick.

The Twisted Linguistics posse picked up these Words Gone Wild for your enjoyment and general confusion.

publishung - A Chinese province, home of the biggest printer of fortunes for cookies.

consupmtion - A popular new pole-dancing move.

unsuscpecting - Hitting a queen over the head and relieving her of her scepter.

mesage baord - Something best left to the Voodoo queens.

crochect - What bad writers do in their spare time.

prerferene - A seductive scent, made from pheromones and guppie puke.

And now I'm going to run out to Wal-Mart and pick up a new coffeemaker. When I come back, I think I'm going to work on my manuscript. Yes, it's true -- I have the urge! I haven't done anything on it in weeks, so it's about time.

Dang, it looks like we have another lying-ass quiz here.:-)

Are You A Good Date?

Congratulations, according to our experts, you scored :

100% which makes you A Hot Date

You are a hot date. Anyone that dates you is in for a treat, you know how to treat your dates right.

67 comments:

I grew up in south Louisiana (one of the most humid places in the US). I work for a company out of Phoenix and spend a considerable amount of time there (one of the driest places in the US). I'll take 110 in Phoenix over 90 in Louisiana any day of the frailing week.

As for Hilton and her three days. No comment. My Friday is off to a good start and I don't want to ruin it with what I really think. :-D

OK so Me didn't get a chance to comment on yer billy preston style in yer last post, so here we go. Rip the bandaid offa yer finger and sit down in front of the AC with a tall glas of yer favorite alcoholic beverage and stop laying floors. Get a young stud to do the sweaty work for you..to you.

I've been in Louisiana in the summer, Trée. Worst humidity I've ever felt. I've heard that the Arizona heat is much easier to take. Oops, I didn't mean to inadvertently ruin your Friday by bringing up the 3 big whoppin' days.

Nope, I doubt there was ever any doubt.:-)

Not to worry, Scary. I don't plan to change floors again any time soon. But -- young studs? Where are they?! I could find some stuff for them to do.:-)

Classic song, always loved it. Always wished I could understand all of the words.We have hot humid days here. I keep myself inside as much as possible. Do you share weathermen with us? Some of the forecasts we get seem to be the result of drug induced delusions.There is no justice, just retribution. That crock sounds unpleasant, switch where you buy them.How far along that manuscript are you? I'm only some 26 pages into mine.

The legal system is broken. The United States is broken.We've always known the rich can buy their way out of anything, this just proves it.

Great photo and you don't look 10lbs heavier.I always like Hot redheads on a radiator.:)Are You A Good Date

According to our experts, you scored :82 which makes you A Hot DateYou are a hot date. Anyone that dates you is in for a treat, you know how to treat your dates right.I wonder what 18% I failed. I don't wear cologne, maybe that was it and I said I'd wait a day before calling.tc

I "think" we have sober weathermen now, Charles, now that the two who ODd on heroin got the boot. Even the sober guys keep you guessing, though. You're right, I do need a better crock. LOL. This ms is actually finished, has been for quite a while. It's still a perpetual work in progress, though.

No kidding, Camille, your dad jammed with the Lovin' Spoonful? What fun that must have been. I always thought John Sebastian was such a cutie.

Rut-row, TC, sorry for giving you an earworm.:) At least it's a decent one, though. I know, justice is what you can afford to buy. Sucks, but it is what it is. Um, you'll settle for a cool redhead on a cold radiator, right?

My floors never tell, Kan.:-) Thank you for the perspective on mystery cuts. Today I'm calling myself Wonder Woman. Please address me as such. Re moving to FL where hot is just a state of being, have you cleaned out that spare room yet?:)

Looks like everyone's scoring pretty well in the dating department. I might decide to play matchmaker again. Who'd like to be my first vic -- er, happy candidate?

When it's hotter here than it is there, Kan. And listen, I'll be glad to bring you some slinky dresses that I no longer wear. They're great for playing cops and robbers and Petulant Princess Popped Prematurely From Prison, you know.:-)

Thank you for sparing me further wood-related remarks, Puggy. You know, I had sort of thought the new seat looked more becoming on the toilet, but now you've given me an idea...

Ooo-la-la, take me to DQ and I'm liable to promise you anything.:-)

I don't, Charles, but I'm working on obtaining one. There are listings and info at Write Here (link on sidebar) if you're interested. Everyone is welcome. Just as a general rule, you'll need a finished ms to present to an agent.

It's a mystery, Annie. I'm actually told it needs more sex. I can't write sex. I don't know why. It just makes me giggle. I had to ask for some help, but that didn't work out so well. I'm tempted to ask December Quinn to help me. SHE knows how to write it. For now, my main character will be unhappily quasi-celibate -- until the next time.:-)

Serena Joy,WHO is telling you you have to write sex into your story? That sounds like bs to me. Unless it's an editor who says she'll buy it if you do. I might accommodte that. Otherwise, whose story is it anyway?

Friends providing critiques and feedback, LBB, and I'm not at all sure how serious they were about it since the whole thing turned into such a laugh-fest. It was more "suggested," and I could see the rationale for it. Now, if a potential publisher or agent made certain "suggestions," I'd certainly do everything in my power to comply with them. I honestly haven't shopped it out that much yet, and I need to be more diligent about that.

Update: The judge ordered that the Pouty Princess be returned to jail this afternoon. They say she was dragged from the courtroom kicking and screaming. I suppose she also stamped her dainty little foot.

OK, I don't get this. I answered the dating questions in the way that most closely approximates what I would do in real life and got a lousy 64%. I thought, well, the only reason I'm not hot is 'cause I said I wouldn't sleep w/ someone on the first date. So I went back, answered all the questions the same, EXCEPT I said I expected to sleep w/ someone on the first date. My score? 4%.

Excuse me, but it's important to look in the eyes, listen, smell nice, and not eat something that you didn't order. If that makes me a bad date, well, thank God I've saved the dating world from me by getting married.

Harumph.

It's so hot and muggy here and I'm about to go try yet again to power-wash the deck. Can I get hotter and muggier? Probably not even in south Louisiana.

Well, Rog has one and I think John too. Let's just say it is everything you think it is and everything you never imagined it could be. Yul and Cait, and maybe even Kyra, would agree with the "swoon" part of your comment. :-D

Just don't sit on my pillow while in the lotus position. I take my pillow very seriously. I would tell you more about the agent, but then you would want me to do the laundry, and, well, I don't clean up after showtime. :-D

The only way is the way of no way but before one can know the way of no way one must first know the way of way. However, I am willing to compromise and let you have whatever way gives rise to the rainbows in your Scottish-Irish eyes. :-)

Take my hand and follow my lead. Your smile scintillates with a radiance born of educated anticipation, your eyes coruscate like icicles at dawn and my heart beats as warrior upon steed. May I have this dance?

Golden amsec stood smooth as morning lakes in the glittering basins of crystal flutes, reflecting smiles white as Christmas snow. John, dressed in his captain’s whites, lifted his glass and proposed a toast. “To our guest, the elegant lady Kyra, a sight most glorious in her singular grace and beauty.”

Hear, Hear resounded round the table as glasses chimed like church bells, echoes softened in the warmness of welcomed endearments. Kyra’s eyes welled as John’s words rained down upon her refulgent blue eyes. Instinctively, she leaned her head back to hold the tide and inhaled deeply, to stay a sniffle or calm her racing breath could not be said. Nor did it matter. Words, amsec, or perhaps something else, magic was magic and these moments were few and far between. Questions, she checked at the door; to be picked up later, if need be.

Together they raised flutes of golden fruit and she smiled. Not so much at him, as with him, like children on a merry-go-round going up and down and all around to the measure of laughter unencumbered by the gravity of age. And he smiled back in a gesture understood only by two in the discourse of the moment. Others were there, that night, at dinner. So the log testifies. But then again, they may as well been the trees in the forest or the birds overhead.

The table stood resplendent with the bounty of private reserves and select delicacies prepared by hand and arranged on whey linens shipboard smooth. Much came from the prowess of John’s own hands on his ancestral lands. Pure and natural, he would say, but truth be known, he needed the bond to home on these long journeys. Although John would not admit it at the time, he had advised the kitchen, in so many words, to spare no detail this night.

Not since formal Tao dinners with Papa had Kyra seen such care and attention given to an event, giving pause to reflection both melancholy and grateful. Much was eaten; much was said, little remembered. Conversation flowed from loose lips but the eyes alone rendered currency legit, a private duet waltzing to the beat of attentive hearts. Kyra wore her ruby red metalique evening gown that night and she feared the pounding in her chest would betray her longing in glimmering swells of rising metal and flickering light. John wondered how a woman could appear more gorgeous.

Kyra tried not to look, but how could one not stare at his dark brown puppy dog eyes. Somewhere was the sound of water flowing, or perhaps, she thought, just the desire to pour herself into those bottomless pools of reflected admiration, forever slipping deeper and deeper into his intoxicating charisma. She leaned his way in her reserved sultriness, almost daring him to break eye contact, a tacit dare, understood in the curve of a smile. Dessert came and then after-dinner liqueurs of azure blues and emerald greens, exotic on the tongue, familiar in the belly.

John made eye contact with his regular guests and one by one they offered their thanks and excused themselves from the table. Kyra noticed without noticing until just the two remained.

More sex. I can't write it either. And I want to. BUt I can't talk dirty either. And I want to do that too to my husband. It always ends in a cascade of laughter and THAT really interrupts the mood.

Also, and I know I am kind of going out on a limb here but I did read all this mess with Paris and it is possible the DMV kind of screwed her over a tiny bit. There is a chance that she did know she was driving on a revoked license. ??. The DMV in CA is so weird. When I became an epileptic the doc filed twice to revoke my driver's license. I turned myself in once. I still have it. No, I do not drive but still. You never know what is going through their minds. I was all mad about it until I saw her crying. I am a sucker. I can't stand it when people cry.

You just added a whole new chapter to the chronicle, Trée. And most eloquently. And elegantly. And now we are off for dancing in another place and another time. Perhaps I'll wear my tiara, the one hung with actual stars.

I don't have any problem talking dirty, Queen Corn. Just ask the idiotic drivers on the highway or the neighbors from hell. LOL.

It is quite possible that PH didn't realize her license was suspended. After all, she testified that she didn't read her mail because she had "people to do that." Tears affect me, but hers honestly just irritated me. I think she was only bawling because she didn't (for once) get her way.

I think you are right SJ. I just have a really bad feeling about them taking her back to jail. I wish they had let her be under house arrest. I am a putz. I know. I cracked somewhere when she started screaming for her "Mommie." I have no discipline at my house and that's why I have no kids. They would be ax murders and I would be saying, "There, there. It's not so bad. Let me help you sharpen the little thingee."

Is it the four large moons, never mind the lesser ones, of Jupiter of which you speak? Alas, I am hobbled today and unable to explore hills, dales, and hollers. And I think I've taken too many pain meds.:-)

Holy Moly! Such decadent spoiling! I think I'm going to adopt you.:-) I think I will have a small nap now. One pillow should suffice, so if you wouldn't mind fluffing and plumping it just so, that would be just perfect.

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About Me

You can call me "Serena" or SJ or you can just call me Sherry. If you call me anything else, I'll hear about it. Believe it. I write every now and then and I ... read. I love a good mystery/thriller. If it has me up late, double-checking the locks on the doors, it's hit the mark. I want... Well, I'll let you know when I know.
I ADORE comments, by the way (hint-hint).